I flatten my hands on his back, my nails digging into his skin as his mouth blazes a path down my jaw to my neck, then lands on my breast. I arch my back, wanting the warmth and wetness against my skin. His teeth find the perfect spot, pulling at my nipple through the lace.
The delicious bite of the material and the edges of his teeth, along with his fingers thrusting in and out of me, sends me spiraling over the edge. I moan, my body going rigid with pleasure, unable to move or breathe, only feel.
And I feel it all as he doesn’t let up, but doubles down, causing my body to convulse and for me to completely lose control. Before I have a chance to come back to my senses, Dylan’s mouth is off my breasts, traveling down my midsection. He flips my skirt up, placing his mouth over my clit, and sucks so hard, I instantly spiral into another orgasm, or maybe it’s still part of the first. I’m half unconscious, delirious, and seeing stars when he climbs to his feet and pushes his jeans down his body.
All I can do is lie there, soaking in the beautiful muscular build of his body, the stiff, long, and more than ample width of his cock, along with the piercing that sparkles as if it’s calling to me like a beacon on a distant shore.
He bends down, rustling in his pocket and pulling out his wallet, fishing out a condom. I watch in awe as he uses his teeth, the same ones that were on my nipple minutes ago, and tears open the foil packaging.
“Still good?” he asks, rolling the latex over his cock without having to look.
He’s had practice, doing this probably hundreds of times with just as many women.
Don’t think about that. No man is single at his age and has a list shorter than the number of fingers on his hands. It’s ridiculous for me to even think that. Whatever he did before me doesn’t matter. The only thing that’s important is this moment, this feeling.
“Still good,” I whisper, barely able to speak but somehow forcing the words out between gasping for air.
My gaze is glued to him, mesmerized by the way his muscles move under his skin. I’ve never seen a man more handsome in my entire life and never one in person, standing totally naked.
Before he can settle on the couch, I stand and shimmy out of my skirt, remove my undies, and toss my bra to the side. My eyes drift lower, and I lick my lips. “Shame,” I say softly. “I wanted to taste you.”
“The night is young, wildcat,” he replies with a wink.
I hurl myself at Dylan, smashing my tits and lips against him, excited about what the rest of the night will bring.
Dylan cups my ass, lifting me up with little effort and turning just before he hits the wall. The hardness of the unforgiving drywall pinches, but all is forgotten as soon as Dylan pushes his hard length inside me, filling me until I can’t breathe.
His lips find mine, kissing me hard, taking what he wants from my mouth along with the rest of my body. I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding on as he pounds into me, angling upward and hitting all the right spots.
He grunts with each thrust, and I moan in response, our breaths becoming one, the sound of our skin slapping against each other. Tomorrow, I’ll have a bruise on my back to match the one healing on my face, but this one will be worth it.
Dylan pulls away, staring me straight in the eye as he pounds into me. “You like that?”
“Yes!” I yell out, using his hair as an anchor while my tits bounce wildly.
I could give a shit what else is jiggling on my body. With Dylan, I don’t care about anything except the way he makes me feel and the pleasure his body can deliver.
He lifts me higher against the wall, one hand moving from my ass to my throat, pinning my body upright. My eyes widen, and for a minute, I panic before I realize he isn’t squeezing or applying pressure but is instead holding me captive as he pummels into me over and over again. He stares into my eyes with each punch of his cock into my pussy, and I can’t look away.
I’m transfixed by his gaze, the way he’s holding my neck, and how he spears me with his cock until I’m panting and beside myself in ecstasy.
My mouth opens and closes, words failing me as a third orgasm builds in my core, splintering throughout my entire body like a jolt of electricity. The world ceases to exist as I feel my eyes roll back, and the air sticks in my lungs.
He grunts, driving into me faster and harder until he follows me over the cliff of bliss. A few moments later, his hand leaves my neck, and he carries me backward toward the couch before collapsing with me landing on top of him.
I realize in that moment, I miss the weight of his body pushing mine against the wall. I miss the feel of his fingers wrapped around my neck.
And in this very second, I know nothing will ever be the same.
“Jesus,” he mutters, dragging his index finger down my spine. “I thought you were going to kill me.”
I push back the hair that’s stuck to my face from the multiple orgasms. “You thought I’d kill you? Excuse me. You’re the one who…”
He smiles up at me, brushing back the hair on the other side of my face. “Wildcat, I haven’t fucked someone like that in forever. I wasn’t sure if my heart or legs would give out before I’d be able to give you another orgasm, but I wasn’t going to stop until it happened or I died.”
I place my palm on his chest, lifting my head up higher to look at him better. “You didn’t have to give me another orgasm.”
“I don’t have to do anything, but I wanted to give you another orgasm.”
“Why?” I ask with a yawn.
“Because I don’t want you to ever forget I was here.”
“Why would I forget?”
His smile softens as he stares at me in the soft light. “Don’t know, babe, but I want to make sure it never happens.”
Too tired to hold myself up, I place my cheek against his chest and let my body relax on top of him. “I could never forget this.”
“Me either, wildcat. Me either,” he whispers, running his fingers through my hair.
“I like you, Dylan,” I say, half asleep.
“Go to sleep, Rosie,” he replies, and I do…quickly.
16
DYLAN
I open my eyes, blinking in confusion at the pink walls and soft blankets draped over my body. Looking to my side, I see Rosie lying next to me with her back to me, covered by only a thin sheet.
“Damn,” I say under my breath as the memories of last night come rushing back to me.
The way she smelled. The way she felt. The way she cried my name. Everything about Rosie Gallo is perfection personified.
A girl like her deserves someone better than an asshole like me. I’m not worthy of a creature so pure and sweet. I’ve lived some bad shit, and no matter how hard I try, it never rubs off, and no number of good deeds will change that fact either.
She moves and the sheet shifts, exposing her back. I grimace, feeling a fire deep in my belly as I lock my eyes on her back. It’s covered in bruises. Marks I put there from the wall and the way I fucked her without giving two shits if I was hurting her in the process.
And I did hurt her. Even though there was pleasure, marks like that don’t come without a price. I know bruises. I’ve been hit more times in my life than I care to remember, blocking out every time my father used his fist as punishment unlike other parents.